Winged Men
by TolkienScribe
Summary: A veteran narrates a fantastical story about winged men serving Manwë. Oneshot. Complete. Part of the Green Leaves universe, Please read and review!


**Winged Men**

 **Summary:** A veteran narrates a fantastical story about winged men serving Manwë.

 **Disclaimer:** Not one feather.

 **Rating:** K+.

All of my stories are interconnected unless stated otherwise but you do not need to read one to understand the other.

My stories are now available in the form of a list in chronological sequence on my bio.

Enjoy!

 **~S~**

Let me tell you a tale, my good friends that I have heard from my travels afar.

It is not like any other tale that has graced these walls. I suspect most of you may even find it outlandish to say the least.

The men say that, to the north most corner of the world, high on the mountains, there live creatures unlike any other. They are beings with the form of handsome young men, but with large golden wings like those belonging to Eagles.

Their hair is as black as coal, their skin as white as snow and their eyes the colour of molten gold. They do not speak any tongue of Men, but they comprehend more than they seem.

It is said that they serve Manwë, the King of the Valar and the Lord of all beasts that fly, except for the fell creatures that Morgoth captured and twisted beyond any redemption. These winged men do his bidding and fly as high as their wings let them. Some have wings wide and long, so they dragged behind them as they walked. Others have smaller wings. It is said their wings carry them high and far, and some can even reach the Sun and the Moon if they bend their will to it. But one thing is certain; all of them are seneschals. They watch over Arda from their high eyries built far from reach on mountains near the peaks. They can brave any clouds, wind and water. They are soldiers, called to service when they are needed.

But the winged men do not serve any known king of Man, Elf or Dwarf. They answer to no one but Manwë himself. They do not take part in the normal doings of Arda, but it is said they come when the need is dire, and aid from everywhere else is lost.

In the First Age, they were many. They fought fire and foe, overcome wrath and fear in their battles against Morgoth's fell army. Their numbers dwindled slowly since then, for their children are rare and far in between. Indeed, they served their lord and king during the War of Wrath. They wore armour of white and gold, and held curved swords that were similar to beaks of an Eagle. Their eyes were sharp and saw from afar every detail that a Man's eyes can miss. But their war against dragons and every fell creature with wings took a heavy toll on their numbers and they retreated to the highest peaks for safety and peace.

And as for their children; they are hatched from eggs, with the body of a child of Man, with small golden wings, though they can only use the wings once they reach adulthood...

"Nonsense!" Gwaihir interrupted his brother's tale with a scoff. He lay down on his corner of the wide nest, comfortable and warm. The cold breeze did not trouble him or the rest of them. "Winged men! Reaching the Sun! Man-children from eggs! Have you left your wits somewhere before you returned to the eyries?"

"It is true!" Landroval protested. "I heard the tale myself from one of the Rangers of the North."

"Well, then, I have no doubt the tale was spun from the liquid they drink. Ale, brandy and wine, they call them. What think you, Meneldor?"

Meneldor, a smaller Eagle than the two brothers but no less in might, wisely dipped his head and did not speak a word.

"And what if Eru did indeed create such creatures? Who is to say they are not out there, roaming the skies like us? We certainly do not possess all knowledge about what goes on in Arda and beyond." Landroval persisted. But Gwaihir was neither impressed nor interested.

"You spend too much time listening to fantastical tales, nest-brother!" Gwaihir chided. He would have said more, if he had the chance, but their debate ended in an abrupt halt, when they felt the ground tremble ever so slightly. A new Eagle entered the eyrie, and he was the largest of all of them and very easily recognisable.

"My lord!" Meneldor greeted. He dipped his head towards him in reverence.

Thorondur, their chieftain swept his gaze over them until it rested on Landroval.

"I overheard you speak," humour laced the old Eagle's voice. "You always liked what the Men had to say, ever since you were hatchling. But enough now; if such creatures do indeed exist, it matters not. We have our duty given to us by Manwë and that is all we should concern ourselves with. It is far likely their stories are based on us."

Chastened, Landroval bowed his head until his beak barely touched the ground.

"As you wish, my lord." He murmured in respect. Thorondur inclined his head, his golden beak glinting in silver-gold from the silver starlight showering on them from above. Their liege-lord and grand-sire passed them, claws clicking when they met the ground through the straw and wood.

Once Thorondur passed, Meneldor chuckled lowly, one bright gold eye fixated on Landroval.

"You should take less interest in tales these Men spin, my friend," he advised. "Men have idle time in their hands and idle tongues wag more than they should."

"I hear your advice but I shall not practice it," Landroval answered. He poked his beak through the straw lining the eyrie, until he made himself a comfortable circle to nestle in. He shook his wings slightly, until they puffed outwards. "They make the most fantastical tales and are very entertaining."

Gwaihir chuckled.

"Do not argue with him, my friend!" Gwaihir advised. "Landroval will follow through a deed more quickly if he is told against it." Landroval playfully nipped his older brother's wings, tugging on his feathers. Gwaihir shook him off and grabbed his neck with his beak in warning before releasing him. Then he rapped the crown of his head humorously.

"Just as I thought," Gwaihir teased, "empty."

"Then Manwë help ye for all the clouds in your brains." Meneldor muttered.

Gwaihir, Landroval and Meneldor shared a laugh as they settled in their posts to stand watch as sentinels. They were not winged men. They were sentinels, with the grave task of protecting Arda. The wind was at their disposal and their arrival heralded relief and victory.

But they only came where they were needed.

 **~S~**

 **Author's Note:**

First attempt on doing an animal's point of view (begging your pardon, O mighty Eagles!). So, yay!

All these characters are canonic.

Thorondur: Lord of the Great Eagles. He helped Fingon save Maedhros from Morgoth. He helped Beren and Lúthien and also took part in the War of Wrath of the First Age. After that, there is no record of him of whether he survived or perished. His son was the father of Gwaihir.

Gwaihir: Most well-known to have carried Gandalf to Lórien and later he rescued Frodo and Sam from Mount Doom.

Landroval: He is Gwaihir's brother. He, too, rescues Frodo and Sam from the mountain.

Meneldor: He was Gwaihir's follower and one of the Great Eagles who belonged to his squadron, tasked to aid the Men in the War of the Ring.

All three, meaning Gwaihir, Landroval, and Meneldor survived the War.


End file.
